After
by fairytalemanipulator
Summary: COMPLETE. Two days after the Great War, and the world was reeling and celebrating at the same time. This is the story of the Golden Trio and the ones they love, making it through the dark and the light after the war. R
1. Chapter 1

Two days after the Great War, and the world was reeling and celebrating at the same time

**Title: After**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Two days after the Great War, and the world was reeling and celebrating at the same time. This is the story of the Golden Trio and the ones they love, making it through the dark and the light after the war.**

**Rating: PG**

**Genre: A little angsty, a little funny, and hopefully very realistic**

**Spoilers: Very canon (and possibly very long fic, too) about everything after the war, so most likely will include lots from 6****th**** and 7****th**** books**

**Pairings: All canon**

**Disclaimer: Don't own HP. JK does. She's cool.**

**Read and review, and enjoy! Love from your fairytalemanipulator**

--

Two days after the Great War, and the world was reeling and celebrating at the same time.

The catastrophic losses and the victorious wins were so unbalanced on the scale of life that there was no way to get around to every emotion the witches and wizards of the magical world were feeling.

There was, however, the chaos and confusion that whirled around the small group of people, known to the rest of the world as the side that fought the Dark. The Order of the Phoenix. The heroes.

To each other, they were simply family.

This is the story of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and the others that gave everything for their cause.

This is how they went on with life right after the war.

This is their story.

Harry stared. His eyes bore into the parchment fluttering wildly on Ron's desk at the Burrow, the wind from the open window catching everything in its way.

_Hogwarts After the Siege_

_Followers of Destroyed Dark Wizard Rounded Up by the Dozens_

_Boy Who Lived Requests Privacy, Solitude, in Time of Celebration and Mourning_

"Daily Prophet sure knows what's going on now, doesn't it," Ron's voice caught Harry by surprise, as he turned at the speed of light, whipping out his wand as he went.

Ron's eyes went wide.

"Sorry, mate," Harry coughed to cover up his moment of fear, gesturing to the paper. "Guess Kingsley's in charge now, yeah? He won't have any sort of rubbish from the Daily Prophet, I bet,"

Ron chose to follow Harry's route of avoiding the incident, choosing to reply to his statement. "Good thing too, we don't need any more Fudges, making the papers ask us exactly what happened,"

"No one wants to know exactly what happened in the last year, Ron, except the people that want to have the nightmares that Hermione's been having," Harry murmured darkly, his eyes boring holes into the paper.

"Kingsley's asking for a formal report though; it isn't going to be too specific, how can it be…like you said, no one wants to know exactly what happened," Ron said quietly, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, did you hear that they're building a huge memorial at the Ministry and Hogwarts as soon as possible?" Harry turned the page of the paper, and smiled sadly at the pictures that stared back at him, smiling and waving._ Lupin and Tonks, Fred, Colin Creevey…Dumbledore…Snape…_

"Too strange, isn't it," Ron took a seat on his bed, resting his elbows on his knees. "It's only been two days. Two days. Since you—since we—" Ron rubbed his eyes furiously. "Since Fred--"

Harry looked up guiltily. In the time following the attack at Hogwarts and the destruction of the world's most feared dark wizard, he had almost forgotten about the misery that the Weasley family was going through. His mind had been suspiciously blank, and his dreams eternally empty. Had he even slept? _Hasn't hit home yet. Nothing seems real._

"Ron."

Ron looked up, his eyes unsettlingly red. "Mate, I just don't know anymore…George isn't himself, Mum's in bed all the time, Dad can't keep us together, and Gin…"

_Ginny._

"Hermione's trying, Harry," Ron continued, wiping his eyes. "But how much can she do, she's still a mess, she wants to find her parents but she doesn't want to leave us now—and I heard Tonks's mum here last night, talking to Percy about what to do with Lupin's house…Teddy…"

Tears pricked at Harry's eyes at the thought of the young orphan. He hadn't cried yet; he couldn't find the strength. Once he started, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop.

"We have to plan Fred's...Fred's funeral…and we have to go to all the others, too, and then the Ministry's still asking questions about Snape and what was going on with him,"

At this, Harry looked up, anger evident in his eyes. "What do you mean, still asking questions? I told them everything. He was innocent. He was working for us, he was working for Dumbledore, all because of my mum! How much more do they need to know? Breathing down our necks like we're still in the war and Scrimgeour wants to know about the Horcruxes again…"

Ron let Harry rant, and when he was done, they both exchanged a look.

"We have to stick together during this. All of us," Harry sighed, wiping his eyes and the strange moisture that was forming there. "And Ginny…" Harry stopped there, looking around the room in an attempt to focus on something else. He had been avoiding her since the end of the war, he had been hectically busy with press and Ministry questions, Weasley family matters and arrangements. He knew that if he had a moment alone with her, he would be on his knees confessing his love to her. _My Ginny. Beautiful, darling…_

"Harry,"

"Yeah,"

"You love her, don't you,"

"I do."

"Now would be a great time to tell her," Ron said, waving his hand in front of Harry's face. "Earth to Harry, war's over. V-He Who Must Not Be Named is gone. Now's the time, mate!"

"Ron, there's still so much though…with Fred, and everyone else, we still have so much to deal with. I don't want to pressure her for anything."

Ron sighed. "We're going to get through this, right?"

Harry once again looked down at the paper, at the happy smiling faces of the couples and friends that didn't know what was coming for them. _Friends and family, all gone…all because of Him._

_But He's gone now, too._

He straightened up, brows furrowed in decision. "We're going to get through this,"


	2. Chapter 2

**Please review! I would love your feedback!**

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"D'you smell that, Ron?" Harry sniffed the air as the pair descended the rickety stairs to the kitchen. "Who's fixing dinner tonight?"

"Er-it's Hermione's turn, isn't it? Dad cooked last night," Ron grimaced at the thought of the charred roast and bread that the family managed to gulp down, saying nothing besides taking their plates and sitting around the crackling fire in the living room.

"Hermione can't cook, mate…"

"Oh Merlin," Ron gasped as they entered the kitchen, which looked like an explosion of taste gone wrong. Flour was strewn across the floor and bacon grease littered the countertops, smearing across Mrs. Weasley's best china. And in a corner, decked in a festive Christmas apron and her bushy hair covering her face, Hermione sat with her head in her hands.

"'Mione," Harry said, tentatively approaching the prone figure. "'Mione, what happened…"

No reply was given, simply a shaking of the aforementioned bushy head.

"Go on, Harry, go and try to get Mum to come down for dinner, she'll listen to you," Ron murmured, shooing Harry out of the kitchen. "She hasn't eaten since this morning, I'll take care of this,"

Harry nodded, and with a last look back at his two best friends, now crouched together on the floor, he went back up the stairs.

Sighing, Harry paused at the top of the steps. He had never thought in a million years that this was what the post-Dark Lord era would be like. He had imagined much celebration, Chocolate Frogs being thrown around…but he had never imagined the losses on their side.

Never in a million years had he thought it would be so painful for the entire wizarding world to carry on with their lives.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry knocked gently on the door. "Mrs. Weasley, it's Harry…"

Receiving no reply, he cautiously opened the door, catching it before it slammed on the other end. Lying prostrate on the bed was a once-lively, once-bubbly Mrs. Weasley, all the laughter gone from her face.

"Mrs. Weasley, Ron wanted to me to tell you that dinner's almost ready…and we would love for you to join the family tonight,"

Silence.

Then a flush from the bathroom, and emerging from the now-open door was Mr. Weasley.

"Hello, Harry," said the haggard looking wizard. He seemed to have aged overnight. "Thanks very much for trying, son, but I don't believe she's going anywhere,"

"Mr. Weasley, it's just that…" Harry stopped midsentence, feeling hot tears burning.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. We can't do this without you."

More silence, then Mr. Weasley's voice coming out of the near-darkness of the room. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"This…this whole situation…it didn't turn out the way I thought it would," Harry stopped again, wiping his eyes. "No one was supposed to die; I never thought it would happen. I never did. And I'm sorry because it's all my fault, Mrs. Weasley, but please don't punish your family for my mess ups,"

And then, a surprise. Mrs. Weasley turned her head and croaked out "Stupid boy".

Harry started. "P-pardon me?"

Swatting her worried husband's hands away, Mrs. Weasley struggled into an upright position. "If it wasn't for you, Harry, we would all be in a much darker time right now,"

"But—"

"No buts! You saved us all. We decided to fight with you, dear. We knew…" Mrs. Weasley paused momentarily. "We knew there would be casualties on both sides,"

"It may have hit closer to home than we originally thought, but Harry, you are part of our family as well, and I'm sorry for you because I know how hard you are taking this, too," Mrs. Weasley finished softly, tears trickling down in between the wrinkles beside her eyes. "And I apologize for being such a buffoon for the past couple days."

Mr. Weasley moved forward, squeezing his wife's hand in his own. Reaching out with her free arm, Mrs. Weasley pulled Harry over to the bed for a kiss on the cheek.

"There is a time for mourning, and a time for remembering," she said hoarsely, her voice cracking. "I have been very selfish; I was not the only one who lost Fred. We all did; we lost more than that, too, but I have been thinking solely of myself,"

"Oh, Molly," Mr. Weasley sighed into his wife's hair, sitting heavily on the bed. "We need you to pull us together."

Molly Weasley kissed her husband on the cheek. "My dears, we will get through this,"

"I only wonder if we'll get through another episode of my cooking," Mr. Weasley grumbled, eliciting a chuckle from both Harry and Mrs. Weasley.

The silence at the dinner table that night was deafening. Ron and Hermione had managed to whip together some soup and bread, along with leftover veal. Picking the burnt pieces off, Harry covertly eyed the other members of the table.

Hermione stared straight into her plate, methodically spooning soup into her mouth and dipping bread. Ron, with one hand comfortingly on hers under the table, was cramming burnt meat into his mouth with relish, seemingly ignoring the disgusted looks from Fleur across the table. Bill and Charlie watched George with big-brotherly concern, their own eyes mysteriously red-rimmed. George, on the other hand, had one hand on the table propping up his head. Eyes rimmed with dark circles and face looking like it hadn't been scrubbed in days, George was the most miserable member of the current party. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley sat next to each other on the side, Mrs. Weasley glancing worriedly at her clock to confirm Percy's location still at the Ministry working overtime since the end of the war.

_Ginny…_Harry hadn't even realized he was staring until her eyes met his, giving him an electric jolt to the heart. Quickly averting his eyes, he switched to Mr. Weasley, at the head of the table, seemingly at a loss for what to say.

Finally, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.

"Eat up, children, there's more where this came from!" Glancing at the shaking head symbolizing "No, there isn't," from both Ron and Hermione, Mr. Weasley contradicted his own statement. "Er- I suppose I can go get ice cream from Diagon Alley after we are done, how does that sound, Molly?"

Mrs. Weasley looked up and gave him a soft smile. "I think it sounds wonderful, Arthur."

At the calm, rational sounding voice of their mother, the Weasley family seemed to take a collective breath of relaxation, each looking up in turn and smiling at each other.

CRACK!

Mrs. Weasley screamed, George nearly fell out of his chair, and Harry drew his wand in alarm before he realized it was only Percy, standing exhausted in front of the fireplace.

"Sorry, Mum," he apologized, rushing to his place at the table. "Got tied up, Kingsley wanted me to do a report on the captured Death Eaters with Penelope,"

"Oh, with Penelope, eh?" Bill murmured, more to himself than anything else. It elicited a small smile from Charlie, who nudged Ginny in turn. She, however, did not return any emotion. In fact, her eyes grew darker, if that was possible.

As the table slowly built up in conversation, only Harry noticed Ginny's trembling hands; at least, until she slammed her fork down on the table with an inhumane yell and pushed her chair back from the table.

"HOW CAN YOU JUST FORGET? IT'S ONLY BEEN TWO DAYS!"

With that, she ran upstairs, sobbing, leaving the entire table with their hands over their mouths and silence in the dark evening.

**Chapter 3 coming soon! Stay tuned and please please please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's another installment for you loyal fans...thanks so much to the 3 reviews I've gotten, haha. I'm thinking of abandoning this story because of lack of reviews...if you want me to keep writing it, it would be quite wonderful if you review for me. I love getting reviews and feedback, and just letting me know how you feel about the latest chapter.**

**Especially because I've been out of the writing circuit for a while, it would be nice to get some reassurance and constructive criticism. So here's a goal: if you read this story, could you please review it?**

**Thank you dears, love from your fairytalemanipulator**

--

_**Previously…**_

_As the table slowly built up in conversation, only Harry noticed Ginny's trembling hands; at least, until she slammed her fork down on the table with an inhumane yell and pushed her chair back from the table._

"_HOW CAN YOU JUST FORGET? IT'S ONLY BEEN TWO DAYS!"_

_With that, she ran upstairs, sobbing, leaving the entire table with their hands over their mouths and silence in the dark evening._

**Chapter 3**

Mrs. Weasley rose shakily from the table, presumably to go after her daughter, but Harry was out of his chair and heading up the stairs much before anyone else had registered the emotional outburst they had just witnessed.

Harry followed the stifled sobbing to the bedroom Ginny currently shared with Hermione, knocking timidly on the door. The crying abruptly stopped, followed by a clearing of a throat.

"Yes?" Ginny managed to respond haughtily, temporarily forgetting the scene she caused. It was only when the door opened to show the face of the man she had fallen so hopelessly in love with that her face crumpled once more into a mask of misery.

"Oh Harry, I simply can't pretend everything's the same! No one else seems to remember that Fred's GONE!" Ginny said hoarsely, not lifting her face from her hands.

"Not just Fred, Harry…there's so much more! How can everyone just forget like that?"

Harry sat gingerly on the bed next to her, patting her back. He was most unprepared when she grabbed his sweater and began bawling into his chest. Petting her hair, he was surprised to find it as soft as ever, the red strands slipping through his fingers like silk. Feeling her tiny body shake with emotion, Harry grabbed her shoulders and lifted her face to his height.

"Ginny. Would they want you to be sad all the time?"

"Well, of course not, but it's been such a short while…"  
"Gin, we're still allowed to laugh. We're still allowed to remember the good times, we're still allowed to create our own good times. I know it's hard, I know. Trust me, I know," Harry's eyes grew dark as he remembered the final battle. "They died for us, Gin. They died for the future, they died for what they believed in. We will never forget them, but they died for the lives we are living right now. There's a time for mourning, and a time for remembering," Harry echoed Mrs. Weasley, remembering her words. "We will move on, but we will never forget."

Looking into Ginny's tearful eyes, Harry lost himself and felt his heart break all over again.

"What happened to us, Harry?" she murmured, brushing away teardrops from her pink-flushed face.

"Voldemort happened," Harry replied, his brow creasing. "The war happened, the death happened…"

Harry didn't know what he was going to say next, so he graciously didn't mind Ginny interrupting his words with a well-placed kiss, right at the center of his lips and coursing down to the core of his heart.

"We can happen again," she whispered, her eyes still haunted by her loss of innocence…_their_ loss of innocence.

"I love you, Ginny," Harry muttered into her hair, almost hoping she didn't hear him. "Is it wrong to say that in a time of mourning? I know how upset you still are, but…"  
"Oh stop muttering, you great imbecile, and kiss me again," Ginny grinned with a look almost foreign to Harry's healing heart; it was a look of happiness, a look of hope.

"I love you too. And thank you for being here."

The third day after the war, Mrs. Weasley opened the door of Ginny and Hermione's room to find Harry and Ginny asleep, fully clothed and on top of the covers of Ginny's bed, with Hermione nowhere to be found. Remembering her own maturity through her and Arthur's relationship, Mrs. Weasley left them alone.

_I'll talk to her later,_ she thought to herself. _She can have her moment._

Feeling very much out of the loop because of the couple days she had spent bedridden, Mrs. Weasley ascended the stairs to Ron's room, knowing subconsciously what she would find. Quietly creaking open the door, she let a gentle smile grace the features on her face, illuminating the laugh lines and brown freckles.

Ron and Hermione were entwined on Ron's tiny twin bed in what would have been a compromising position had anyone not known who they were. His hand rested gently upon her side, and he was cradling her to his chest in a very protective way. Their breathing in sync, the young couple looked in every way to be much in love.

_Now if only they will admit it to themselves, _Mrs. Weasley thought to herself, shaking her head sadly as she noticed the cold sweat broken out on Hermione's forehead. _Bad dreams again, poor dear._

Mrs. Weasley was certainly no stranger to bad dreams. In fact, she had formed a sort of kinship with them. Their unusual friendship resulted in her awakening in the wee hours of the morning to do her customary checks on the children. _Old habits die hard._

Three hours later and most of the house was up, no thanks to the ruckus caused when Hermione woke up, not remembering how she got into Ron's bedroom. The roaring insanity of a wrathful Hermione seemed to be an incentive for the rest of the house to jump out of bed and make a move on the day. There was much to do on the third day; the Ministry was still in the process of rebuilding, with workers performing many jobs out of their department, Mr. Weasley and Percy were constantly swamped. Fleur and Bill were both called in at Gringotts; the damage left by the dragon was still being repaired and grieving family members were squabbling over insurance payments. Charlie was constantly exhausted from his dragon roundups; many were still on the loose on the outskirts of the forests in Bulgaria.

George was rarely seen these days; he inhabited the joke shop as a ghost, flitting about, repairing the damage left by stray spells gone awry in the parts of the battle that spilled into Diagon Alley. While he was not alone in rebuilding his shop, for many were in the process of or had already reopened, his mental health was in concerned question. Whenever Harry did see him, he was muttering to himself or looking in a mirror, covering the hole of his ear with his hair and leaving perpetual frown lines on his brow. No one had expected any less of course; the loss of his twin brother was bound to have unbalanced him. However, the almost complete silence coming from the boisterous brother left the family to wonder what was going on in the former twin's mind.

After a hurried breakfast thrown together by the collective efforts of Mrs. Weasley and Fleur, everyone went about their own business. With the memorial service in two days, Mrs. Weasley was preparing a speech; as a critical member of the Order for two wars and her famous battle with Bellatrix Lestrange, she was the honored guest. Mrs. Weasley took this privilege very seriously; she would honor Fred and the others they had lost in the most respectable way she could.

This left the youngest children in a compromising position. They could go along to the Ministry and aid in those efforts, go to Diagon Alley and keep an eye on George, or stay in the Burrow and help Mrs. Weasley with preparations for Fred's private funeral and the very much publicized memorial service.

"Well," Ron grumbled, poking treats through Pig's cage as he squawked happily. "We could go to Gringotts to help Bill and Fleur,"

"Eh," both Ginny and Hermione replied with grunts, signaling a no. Harry simply shrugged, finding it easier to not think about all the things that the others had to do. He felt quite bad not having as much on his plate, but at the same time was enjoying his time off; if it wasn't for the random memories of what used to be that haunted him, it would be perfect. It was at that moment that the doorbell rang, and the trio sprang to their feet, drawing their wands.

"Should I get the door?" Ginny whispered, starting forward. Harry threw an arm out and caught her, shaking his head in the negative. Mrs. Weasley bustled to the bottom of the stairs, looking up at them.

"Keep your wands at the ready," she said up to them, her face drawn and pale. The war was not over until the last Death Eaters were caught, and the fear lingered in the hearts of every witch and wizard.

Slowly pulling the door open, her own wand hidden behind her apron, Mrs. Weasley said cautiously "Yes?".

"MRS. WEASLEY!"

"Mrs. Weasley, where is the rest of the family?"

"Mrs. Weasley, give us an exclusive on life after the war!"

"It's only been three days, Mrs. Weasley, how are you feeling?"

"Mrs. Weasley, it must have been hard to lose one of your sons, tell us how you feel!"

"MRS. WEASLEY!— "

Ron bounded furiously down the stairs, aiming his wand straight at the swarm of frenzied reporters.

"I thought we told you to stay out!" His angry voice boomed over the crowd, and a silence fell as many scribbling journalists fell back in fear. "SILENCIO!"

The power of the temporary silencing charm fell over the entire gathering of reporters as they opened and closed their mouths like fish.

"You all must have lost people in the war, too! Go home, go to the Prophet and do some real work! Report on the casualties, report on the memories, and stop accosting those of us who have our own sorrows!" Hermione said scathingly, descending the stairs. "We are not answering questions at this time."  
Primly, she closed the door, not bothering to reverse the spell Ron had cast. Taking Mrs. Weasley by the hand and throwing a glance at Ron signaling him to follow her, Hermione headed to the kitchen.

"Let's have a spot of tea, shall we?" she said, leading Mrs. Weasley to the kitchen table. Looking like she'd been hit on the head, Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"How…how dare they?" she finally managed to speak, looking confused. "Don't they know what it's like?"

"All they know is their job, Mum," Ron said, sitting next to her at the table. "And think, it's only been three days and they're already doing that…"

"We're going to have to put more wards up," Mrs. Weasley said, regaining color in her face. "You and the rest of the children should work on the today, so we can run it by your father when he gets home,"

Harry and Ginny were peering out the window on the second floor, watching the hordes of reporters silently make their way to the edge of the Burrow's apparition zone and disappearing with a POP!

"How incredibly rude," Ginny murmured, lost in her own thoughts.

"Quite," Harry grumbled, put off by the ease at which the reporters got to the Weasley's door. "Shall we go downstairs and see if Hermione's managed to set the tea on fire yet?"

Managing to make Ginny giggle, he squeezed her hand then let it drop, allowing her to lead the way down the stairs.

On the third day, it almost felt like normal again.

Almost.

**Review, please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm so, so sorry! I've been incredibly busy and I haven't updated in a while, but expect frequent updates on all my stories from now on. This chapter's kinda short but the next one will be longer. Please please review, because I'm sad from the lack of reviews on this story :( That's my sad face. Now, on with the chapter. Enjoy!**

--

The fourth day after the war, Mrs. Weasley finally smiled again.

"Oh Arthur…you aren't wearing that in public, are you, dear?"

Arthur Weasley jumped at the sound of his wife's voice coming from the door. Dressed in Muggle jeans, a flowered shirt, and a trenchcoat, he had been admiring himself in the mirror.

"Just…just emptying the closet, Mollywobbles," he said hurriedly, taking the cowboy hat off of his head. "Now that I've been promoted at the Ministry I don't think I need my Muggle undercover disguises."

"But Arthur," Molly said, advancing into the room, her eyes sparkling once again. "You love your Muggle clothes. Keep them, if not just for yourself."

"Really?" Arthur's lips turned upward in what resembled his usual mirthful grin. "I thought you'd be cheering me on, dearest,"

"I've come to realize that there are some things more important than my scrutiny of your fascination with Muggle things."

She laid her hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin once again. It was surprising, she reflected, that when everything else felt gone there was still love.

Arthur closed his eyes, seeing his wife on the insides of his eyelids. He could see her everywhere, feel her in everything, and it was nice to know that when everything else seemed lost, he could still feel her love.

Molly tipped herself up on her toes and softly kissed her husband on the lips. She rested her forehead against his chin as he wrapped his arms around her, and they stood for a while like that until a gentle cough interrupted the moment.

"Sorry, err, awkward...err…Hermione needs your help with reinforcing the charms on the Burrow," Harry coughed again, casting his eyes downward. _Awkward. Awkward._

"Sorry, again," he said apologetically to Mrs. Weasley as Mr. Weasley, still outfitted in Muggle clothes, descended down the stairs behind him.

Arthur paused for a moment on the stairs, looking back at his wife standing in their room. "I love you, dear."

Tears welled up in Molly's eyes, and she mouthed the words back to him as he headed to help Hermione. She sat heavily on the bed, old bedsprings creaking their sorrow as the tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes.

"_We're going to be alright_," she whispered to herself, drying her eyes.

* * *

The fourth day was one of the better days. The Daily Prophet finally wrote a story that was _not_ about the death count, the Healer shortage, Harry Potter, or the shocking true stories of Sirius Black or Severus Snape. Bill, Fleur, and Charlie all headed to their respective homes for the night, although they would still come by daily to be with the rest of the family. Percy continued to work overtime at the Ministry; however, the bags under his eyes were shrinking. Gringotts opened its regular hours once more, and more shop owners returned to Diagon Alley. The milkman started his route again, and Luna sent them all a letter from Bulgaria, where she and her father were currently taking a vacation in the forest. "Probably hunting morgabala torzaks or whatever they're called," Ron had muttered, to the giggles of Ginny who corrected him. "Actually, she says this time they're just looking after her new winklewater."

"What's a winklewater?"

"Dunno."

The wireless crackled to life in the late afternoon, interrupting their tea time, with a formal address by the new Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. He announced the memorial service for tomorrow, mentioning Molly Weasley as the honored guest ("Check it out, Mum, you're famous!" Ron had exclaimed excitedly, to the eye rolls of Hermione and Harry. "You moron, she's been famous for a few days now…" Hermione replied scathingly), and inviting anyone who wished to mourn their losses. Fred's private funeral and memorial service would be held directly afterward, but no one mentioned that. Tomorrow would be a difficult day for the wizarding community, and as the new Minister put it—"We must find happiness in these sorrowful times."

Hermione cooked dinner for the family that night, again, as Mrs. Weasley refused to have an intelligent person under the roof of the Burrow that could not make toast without causing a four alarm fire.

Ron sniffed the plate placed in front of him at dinner, receiving a disdainful look from his girlfriend.

"Is it safe, d'you think?" Ron whispered to Harry, receiving a kick under the table from Ginny.

"Eat up, it's not burnt, I promise," Hermione directed to Bill and Charlie, wringing her hands. Her little apron was askew, and she had a smear on her little nose currently wrinkled in observation.

With a crack, the rest of the Weasley family Apparated in.

"Perfect timing!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen.

"Extraordinary sense of heee-ring for 'er age, no?" Fleur said, seating herself next to her husband.

Mrs. Weasley bumbled in with an unreadable look on her face. "I heard that too."

George seated himself quietly next to his father. "Percy owled me, Shacklebolt needed him late again tonight,"

"Poor dear," Mrs. Weasley said fondly. The rest of her words were drowned out by loud, savage slurping noises coming from the end of the table. Noticing all heads turned towards him, Ron's head appeared around his soup bowl.

"Err, it's…it's really good…"

Hermione beamed, for once not scolding Ron about his table behavior. She seated herself and the rest of the family dug in, except for Ron, who belched quietly and slouched in his chair trying to determine the quickest way to the kitchen for seconds.

"George, are you feeling quite all right?" Mr. Weasley asked. "You seem, erm…"

"Okay?" George supplied with a wry grin.

"Well, yes,"

Now that Mr. Weasley mentioned it, Ginny could see the difference in George's face. He had not been seen around the house since the dinner incident the night before, and the change in one day was remarkable. His mouth was once again set in its upturned line, and his hair was brushed back once again. _Even his shoulders aren't slouching, _Ginny thought to herself, her eyes narrowing.

"You met a girl!" Ginny pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"Not…really…kind of…"

"Yes or no, Georgie Porgie," Charlie muttered with a snort of laughter.

"I uh…I talked to Angelina today, she stopped by the store when I was doing inventory…and helped me out,"

Ginny watched her brother's face. Angelina had always been Fred's girl, but the times they had gotten together it hadn't worked out. Ginny just hoped that Angelina knew that George was not his now-deceased twin.

George turned his head sharply towards her and Ginny choked on her grilled chicken. It was as if he could read her thoughts.

"We just talked is all…about Fred, about the war. It was nice, really," George said thoughtfully, saying Fred's name with only a momentary hesitation. "I needed that."

Mrs. Weasley smiled to herself, eyeing the now-chattering young men and women sitting at her dinner table. _It really is going to be alright. _

Then she remembered the memorial services tomorrow, and her heart fell a bit. She picked at the mashed potatoes on her plate, coming to a decision in her mind.

_Fred's service is going to remember him in the way he would have liked. _ A very twin-like prankster grin decorated her face for a moment in thought. _I'll arrange to have Fred honored in the Weasley Wizard Wheeze's original manner._

* * *

Five days after the war, the sorrow was once again felt afresh. Yet, five days after the war, the survivors all came to peace in their hearts. Because, five days after the war, the lost were remembered, not for the first and not for the last time. And, five days after the war, it finally felt okay for them to laugh again.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I completely forgot about this chapter. I apologize to the two people that are still reading this (har har har). I lost my inspiration on this story, so this is just a quick wrap-up. I'm working on continuations of my other stories, so follow those! I hope you'll be pleasantly surprised by my future work. I love you guys! Love from the fairytalemanipulator**

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The sixth day after the war, something had changed in the air. It seemed that once the mourning day had passed, it was okay to be cheerful again. Hope was restored; of course, no one forgot what happened that fateful day, but the world seemed to look forward to cleaning up the mess left by the Death Eaters and rebuilding.

The seventh day after the war, the Daily Prophet reported that Hermione Granger, bushy-haired brainiac witch of the year, and Ronald Weasley, redheaded well-meaning buffoon, were discovered snogging their lips off behind the Burrow. Naturally, this incited only excitement in the busybody wizarding world; this was welcome news in the face of all the tragedy that was going on. Except, of course, for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were seen through the windows of the living room to have the pair of lovebirds in an interrogation-style discussion on "protection methods for the teenage witch and wizard".

A month after the war, Bill and Fleur Weasley made a public statement, after much speculation, that they were indeed expecting a baby. Apparently, Fleur had enough of photographs of her stomach taken when she was out in public scrutinizing every possible inch of fabric covering her skin, and the Daily Prophet's comparison pictures of her from her 1994-1995 Triwizard days.

Three months after the war, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley officially entered training to become Aurors for the newly renovated Ministry of Magic under Kingsley Shacklebolt. In a surprise move, Ginny Weasley was offered a position as a healer at St. Mungo's…which she turned down. Mr. Weasley took time off from his work to take his wife on a surprise vacation to Timbuktu, an exotic land, location of which none were quite sure of.

Six months after the war, Hermione was working at the Ministry of Magic as a house-elf advocate (which was to be expected, although Ron was undoubtedly surprised) and Ginny Weasley had taken to her bed with a severe bout of spattergroit; ironically, no one had been able to tell until she fainted in Madam Malkin's. And who should be at her bedside but the famous Harry Potter, taking off time from Auror training to be with his beloved.

One year after the war, it was almost back to normal.

No one cried on a daily basis anymore.

No night terrors plagued the general population.

It was all the same, yet it was so different at the same time.

After all, it's about what happens _after_, isn't it? That's the real story.


End file.
